Every time I dare to dream, I risk waking up from a dreadful nightmare-
to a nightmare I constantly suppressed in the abyss of my memory.
I wished to never dream so I fought to stay awake-
again if wishes were horses, mine would have been a pitbull.
Yet as it move closer to tomorrow-
a tomorrow that resembles my dreams,
I feel a yawn crawling up my soul-
crawling up my soul in a battle for dominance
to subdue this self-induced insomniac but the coffee will wear-off in time.
but this manic maniac is just a victim-
a victim of the ghost of tomorrow's past,
or a victim of fear, fear of a tomorrow-
a tomorrow that is slowly materialising,
resembling his nightmare,
a reality where art is just but a distant memory.
tomorrow has since passed, with the ghost of its past stuck in limbo
stuck in limbo and the insanity of it all is driving me insane!
the vivid memories of beautiful art have since parted ways with my conscience,
all I have left now is the bitter aftertaste of brighter days now left in the past-
a past once doused in the fragrance of poetic mastery.
now the past has passed and instead we're doused in the bittersweet fragrance of poetic nostalgia
Jan 23
Jan 23, 2026 at 2:28 AM UTC
Every time I dare to dream, I risk waking up from a dreadful nightmare-
to a nightmare I constantly suppressed in the abyss of my memory.
I wished to never dream so I fought to stay awake-
again if wishes were horses, mine would have been a pitbull.
Yet as it move closer to tomorrow-
a tomorrow that resembles my dreams,
I feel a yawn crawling up my soul-
crawling up my soul in a battle for dominance
to subdue this self-induced insomniac but the coffee will wear-off in time.
but this manic maniac is just a victim-
a victim of the ghost of tomorrow's past,
or a victim of fear, fear of a tomorrow-
a tomorrow that is slowly materialising,
resembling his nightmare,
a reality where art is just but a distant memory.
tomorrow has since passed, with the ghost of its past stuck in limbo
stuck in limbo and the insanity of it all is driving me insane!
the vivid memories of beautiful art have since parted ways with my conscience,
all I have left now is the bitter aftertaste of brighter days now left in the past-
a past once doused in the fragrance of poetic mastery.
now the past has passed and instead we're doused in the bittersweet fragrance of poetic nostalgia
My Hell Their Circus Track 2
